


Relaxation Methods

by voiderling



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Worm - Fandom
Genre: (in more ways than one), (it's not play), Abuse, Blood, Canes, Impact Play, Knife Play, Knifeplay, Knives, M/M, Minor Character Death, One Shot, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Sadism, Torture, lol, power abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 04:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16527611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiderling/pseuds/voiderling
Summary: What Coil did w Pitter when he locked the door behind him in his interlude.





	Relaxation Methods

Coil sat back in his leather chair, appraising Mr. Pitter as he frantically tested the now locked-from-the-inside door to his office.

He was a man of average height and average looks, wearing a light blue shirt, black tie, and tan slacks. His round glasses accentuating some of the roundness in his face, and his frame wasn’t impressive. His hair wasn’t anything noticeable; brown, short and parted to one side. A perfectly mediocre, replaceable sort of man. But it wasn’t his looks that interested Coil, looks rarely made him look twice. What he valued was obedience, and Mr. Pitter was nothing if not obedient.

Coil wondered if perhaps that was what others found creepy about him. That unerring dedication to whatever it was that Coil wanted from him. In that regard, he would be difficult to replace.

“Mr. Pitter.”

Pitter turned, putting his hands by his sides and bowing his head slightly. “Yes sir?” 

Coil could hear the faintest edge of nervousness in his voice. He let him sit in silence for a moment, musing over where he wanted to start. What scenario he wanted this time. There were no long-term ramifications of anything here. He was free to drop the calm exterior. Coil swiveled his chair to the left, still looking in Mr. Pitter’s direction.

“Come here.” his words remained calm, nondescript.

Pitter crossed the room, standing on the other side of the desk. 

Coil motioned his head towards the spot of floor in front of him, clicking and pointing with his left hand resting on his knee, “Here.” his voice a fraction more stern. 

True to form, Mr. Pitter didn’t hesitate. Coil watched him walk around to his side of the large desk. But he paused, remaining standing, unsure.

“Kneel.” he let anger seep into his voice and Mr. Pitter dropped immediately down to his knees, head turned down so he wouldn’t see Coil’s face, even masked as it was.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you Mr. Pitter,” his voice softening as he leant forwards in his chair, savouring the fear apparent across Pitter’s face, “You’ve always been so unerring in your duties, such a good pet of mine,” Coil continued. He reached his left hand to Mr. Pitter’s neck, touching it with his fingertips and tracing them up to his jaw, lifting Pitter’s head so he could see his face. A couple of his fingers he left resting against an artery, following Pitter’s pulse. It was fast and showed no signs of slowing.

Pitter’s eyes were still wide, and he swallowed nervously as a blush tinted his cheeks and nose. He seemed torn between meeting the eyes of Coil’s mask and averting his gaze - flickering between either every few seconds. Coil pushed the emotion further, uttering a quiet “Haven’t you.”

Mr. Pitter nodded, jaw still in Coil’s hand. The blush deepened a bit and he stuck with averting his gaze. Coil smiled a bit behind his mask. There would be no harm in finding out some answers while he was here.

“My, my. You are blushing quite a bit aren’t you.” he murmured, slipping one foot to the inside of Pitter’s knee, pressing against it so he would sit with his knees further apart. “Tell me why that is.”

Leaving Pitter distracted with a question he already suspected he knew the answer to, Coil silently opened the second drawer of his desk with his right hand, taking out a small black rod, no longer than the palm of his hand. One end had a button on it, which he placed his thumb over. 

“I…” Pitter was still lost for words, unwilling to give up an answer. 

In one swift movement, Coil had pressed the button on the black rod he held, extending it into a thin, glossy black whipping cane with a small and dense silver ball on one end. It almost bore more resemblance to a rigid whip with how thin it was. He struck Pitter across the upper arm, not half as hard as he could’ve, eliciting a yelp of surprise and pain. It was enough motivation to coax and answer.

“Want you,” he blurted out before he could hesitate again, his eyes winced shut.

Coil was correct in his long-held suspicions after all. Something akin to Stockholm syndrome perhaps? Not that Mr. Pitter was ever here against his will, Coil never forced anyone to do anything, he just ensured that it was in their best interests to obey. 

Mr. Pitter took the ensuing moment of silence as a form of rejection. He went to stand, muttering a “Sorry sir, I don’t know what came over-” but Coil cut him off, tightening his left hand into a grip around Pitter’s jaw and part of his neck - the benefit of larger hands. In quick succession, he brought his foot to rest firmly on the top of Pitter’s knee, making it clear he wouldn’t be standing just yet. In the process, he noticed a bulge in Pitter’s pants and raised a brow. Oh?

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” 

That elicited a few nervous sounds of embarrassment, as intended. Mr. Pitter looked at Coil with a couple of emotions flickering across his face. Disbelief and hope, Coil thought. He placed the thin cane down, across his lap, bringing both hands to the underside of his jaw. He found the concealed zipper there, unzipping it and rolling his mask back to expose the lower half of his face. He smiled, warmly. A gesture of trust like this would be irresistible for that glimmer of hope Pitter had. He gestured for Pitter to sit up and come towards him.

It worked too well.

Mr. Pitter looked so pitiful like this, eyes glistening. It filled Coil with a sense of disgust and he regretted manipulating the scene like this, coming across as though he returned Mr Pitter’s feelings. It would be no different if he was any other gender, either. These things were a foreign concept to him, bordering on repulsive. He could easily have cancelled this reality and started again, but that would remove some of the emotional capital he stood to gain here. Suffering through a moment like this would payoff when he saw the look of betrayal in Pitter.

Pitter’s lips had nearly met his own as he grabbed the tie around his neck, wrenching him down and pushing him back onto the floor with a certain carelessness. “Mr. Pitter,” his words were crisper without the mask across his mouth, “You misunderstand me.” he stood and walked across, placing a foot at Pitter’s neck and pressing weight into it, making him struggle with his breath. “How should I put this…” he mused, tapping the end of the cane against his chin as he thought. “This is an alternate reality I created. Anything that happens here will have no consequences on the real world, other than that I will have the fond memory of it.” he paused, looking down at a shock-still Pitter. He leant down towards him, and in a deep voice murmured, “I can do anything I want to you.”

Any positive emotion Mr. Pitter had seemed to drain out of him, replaced by a look of unsure fear as he scrambled backwards. Coil’s lips curled up at the edge. That’s what he created these alternate realities for. That’s what calmed him like nothing else could. Fear that was felt for entirely the right reasons.

He advanced on Pitter with a glacial pace, cane at his side.

“Mr. Pitter, have you ever wondered how I remain so relaxed all the time?” he asked nonchalantly, continuing his approach. Mr. Pitter had backed up against the wall now, eyes still wide and fixed on Coil.

“How I remain so calm?” he said, voice dropping deeper. Mr. Pitter shook his head in a small movement. “It’s because I have such obedient servants. Servants that know they are mine,” he moved the cane to rest just under Pitter’s chin, raising it slightly, “servants that know their place,” he stressed the last word in particular, “and servants that know above all else,” he raised the cane, quickly bringing it down in full swing against Pitter’s exposed neck, “to obey me.”

Mr. Pitter cried out as the black whipping cane struck him, in an ugly, surprised manner. The kind of uncontrolled cry people give when caught off-guard by a sudden and tremendous amount of pain. He slumped a little to his right. Coiled continued speaking. 

“That isn’t to say that you haven’t been obedient, Mr. Pitter. Quite the contrary, it’s why you’re such a favourite of mine.” he smiled, though it quickly faded as he tilted his head to see Pitter’s face at a clearer angle, “Unfortunately for you, being a favourite means taking the brunt of my irritations from time to time. Not that you would remember the other times this has happened.”

Pitter was cowering now, head bowed, arms raised meekly to protect his face and chest; for all the good it’d do. In a quiet voice, “Please… I’ll do anything, just-” he cut himself off with a dry sob. 

How cute.

“Take off your shirt.” Coil commanded quietly pleased with the speed with which Pitter started on the task, presumably under the incorrect assumption that Coil would go easy on him if he behaved. Coil wouldn’t, but the compliance was preferred. “Leave your tie.” his voice offered no kindness in it. 

Pitter’s trembling hands fumbled with the buttons, making progress slower than it would be otherwise. Coil hummed to himself, stepping over to the desk. When his toy was finished removing its shirt, he tapped the metal end of the cane on the desks surface, “Here.”

Pitter, frozen by fear, didn’t come.

There was a few seconds of quiet as Coil waited. A smouldering animosity rose within him; the very feeling he had conjured this entire world to dissipate. It settled in as a tightness in his muscles, clenching his jaw and priming his body for action. His breathing had become steadier and more controlled. 

In this world, however, he could act on those feelings.

In a couple of strides he was back at Pitter, putting a gloved hand into his hair and wrenching him upward by it. Coil dragged him towards the desk, not allowing Pitter to get to his feet properly, letting him stumble and clutch at his hands and wrists uselessly as he tried to remove them.

With force, Coil shoved Pitter facedown on the side of the desk. Using his left hand, he grabbed and tightened the tie at his neck. Pitter’s breath grew quickly strained. Using the same hand, Coil turned Pitter’s head to one side, leaning down close to his ear. He whispered, his tone gravelly in its depth. There was a severity to it that he rarely allowed.

“Do you know what I do with disobedient degenerates?”

Pitter shook his head as much as he was able, some tears had spilled from his eyes now in fear but he remained quiet. A sadistic grin crept across Coil’s face.  
“I break them.”

He lifted himself off Pitter, still holding the tie at a length. From where he stood behind Pitter, he was able to reach one of his top drawers. From within it he took a pair of zipties, dropping the tie and securing them around Pitter’s wrists, interlacing them together. Secondly, he withdrew a knife with a simple but elegant design. The handle was black and perfectly moulded to his grip, and the curved blade ended in a fine point. He dragged it across the desk, carving deep into the mahogany. Pitter tensed up completely underneath him and Coil hummed, pleased. 

“Don’t move, pet.”

Coil punctuated the end of his order by stabbing the blade down into the desk, pinning Pitter’s tie to it in the process. It remained standing, stuck deep. Pitter didn’t make any sudden moves, remaining still other than the quivering of his torso.

Taking a slight step back to one side, Coil raised his cane again. He brought it back down the exposed back in front of him, eliciting another cry of pain. He struck again before Pitter had finished that first wail. He saw his legs collapsing a bit, though he managed to remain on the desk, twisting and writhing in the pain of it. Despite this, he didn’t make an attempt on getting to the door. Perhaps remembering it was remotely locked? 

Coil favoured this instrument for the intensity of the pain it caused. The cane would be bad enough on its own, but the weighted end at its tip added something extra. He could see pink marks appearing already, a line followed by a distinct spot for where the metal struck. A few of his more severe strikes had drawn blood, too. 

Pitter, for his part, was whimpering now. Tears streaked his face and collected on the surface his cheek rested against. He didn’t seem capable of more than infrequent mutterings of “please” and “no”. 

Following a particularly harsh strike that caused Pitter to scream as it tore through skin, Coil commented “Hm, this room is obviously soundproofed, but I do wonder…” he paused, coming in closer to Pitter who shied away, “is there anyone out there who would jump to your aid?” 

The helpless look on Pitter’s face was telling. 

“No, I wouldn’t think so either.” a smile warmed his tone and he struck Pitter’s face, landing the metal end against his cheek, splitting it and causing it to bleed. He put the cane down on the desk. “You’re doing your best to stay still and take all of this aren’t you,” he yanked the knife out of the desk where he’d left it, unpinning Pitter’s tie, “perhaps trying to impress me?” 

He didn’t offer much of a chance for a reply, grabbing Pitter by the knot of his tie and hefting him up, forcing him to stumble across the room with him. He pressed the man against one of the dark wood-panelled walls of the office, making him cringe with the pain of pressure against his recent wounds.

Coil stepped in close, keeping Pitter standing and in place with the grip he had on his tie. Pitter stood almost a head shorter than him, conveniently. Still holding the knife, he pressed it up to the side of Pitter’s throat, threateningly close to crucial arteries. “Don’t struggle too much now,” he voiced quietly, drawing closer to his face until he was almost touching it. With a contrasting tenderness he licked blood from the split cheek, not lingering for long. He savoured the taste of his terrified lamb as he pulled away, licking the slight excess from his lower lip. Against his chest he could feel Pitter’s lungs working overtime with rapid breath, wincing but staying still. 

In cruel reward, Coil stuck the tip of the blade into Pitter’s skin, hardly deep at all. Still, it caused Pitter to wrench his eyes shut and make a keening sound, practically begging without words. The knife dragged down his neck and across his chest, drawing a line of blood and coming to rest at the soft flesh of his abdomen. Coil felt perfectly relaxed in this moment, savouring the last breaths of fear from his prey. No, prey didn’t fit.

His votive offering, his tender, his oblation.

Moving his hand from the tie, up to Pitter’s mouth to cover it, he turned the knife such that the point dug in. His eyes were gentle as they looked into Pitter’s, not filled with love for him, but for the role he existed to fill. “Pitter,” he began, “I must thank you for the service you provide, I really don’t know how I would get by without it. I suppose there would be others, but you,” he thrust the knife in, shock and fear setting in to Pitter’s eyes as he began in vain to struggle, “you are always going to be my favourite, pet.”

-

Coil cleaned blood off the knife with a white handkerchief whilst he stood over Pitter’s slumped form. Blood spilled from the wound, but it would take time for him to die. Coil crouched down in front of him, using the tip of the knife to bring Pitter’s head up to look at him. His eyes looked clouded as his life drained from him, skin becoming pallid. Before he passed out completely, Coil said “Rest assured, you will continue in the other alternate reality. You’re administering my pet’s ‘candy’ as we speak. You have your uses.”

It was necessary to indulge in his power like this, splintering off realities that he could use to amuse and calm himself. 

He placed a pair of fingers at Pitter’s neck, feeling his pulse grow slower and weaker until it stopped. 

With that, he dismissed the reality. Resuming the one where he had spent the time researching the Slaughterhouse 9.


End file.
